“When you turn off the lights, that’s when the black circles come. They come down like this (holds his hands in the air above his bed), and they stay for a second, then zoop! they go inside! (slapping the hands to his chest).”
I was with my sister, her husband, and their two-year-old daughter. We were talking about loved ones who had recently passed. My brother-in-law went and grabbed a picture of his mother, who had died in a car crash when he was six, to show me. When my niece saw the picture though, she started laughing. We asked her what was so funny and she looked at us and said. “That’s my special friend who sings to me”. I still shiver a bit just thinking about it.
We were driving down a dark, snowy highway late one evening. It was the final stretch of a 16-hour-long road trip. My son, who was around 4 or 5 at the time, was in the back seat and becoming a bit restless. He suddenly covered his face with a blanket and announced loudly, “I don’t want to get glass on my face!”
A few moments later, a pickup truck towing some snowmobiles pulled out in front of a tractor trailer a few cars in front of us and got hit, spinning out into the median. Fortunately, we avoided the accident completely. It was indeed a bit creepy, though, almost as though he predicted there was going to be an accident right in front of us.
I had to share a room with my 4-year-old for a few weeks. “Mummy when you were sleeping, I woke up and there was a ghost with no face standing over you touching your arm, it was taking your dreams out of your body with its mouth.”
I can’t remember if she was 3 or 4, but our little daughter’s voice peeped up from the back seat one morning:
My 4-year-old daughter (she is 17 now) once sat up from a nap, looked at me, and said in a perfect Irish accent, “It’s colder in here than a hot cup of worth.” We are not Irish. I have no idea what it means, but that’s pretty heavy for a 4-year-old.
My mum stayed with us for a few months when my daughter was 3 or 4. When she moved out, the spare room was still called “Nanna’s Room”. I asked my daughter to get something upstairs one day. She did and came back to me and said, “Who is that old lady in nanna’s room?”
My young daughter said she made a new friend. Her mother and I are like, “Cool hun, what’s her name?” It’s Casey Junior. So then we ask when we can invite her over to play. My kid says we can’t because she’s dead…
Later that night, after putting my daughter to bed, I hear laughter and talking coming from her room. I go to investigate. As I get to the door, I hear my daughter say, “No Casey, stop tickling me!” amidst bouts of giggles. I walk into the room quickly, not knowing what to expect. There is just my daughter in the room and no one else.
My son always says odd things. Usually they’re funny but this one threw me for a loop. He is 8. I was telling him how much I love him and thanks for being in my life. He said, “I didn’t choose this life. I couldn’t control how it began. But I can control how it ends.”
My niece drew a picture of the “man in her room” that she kept telling her parents about. He had two different colored eyes, and one was gray. When asked why it was gray, she responded, “Because he can see the storm coming.”
My wife’s first husband came from a superstitious family. When he died they gave a red ribbon to her, which they told her she had to tie to bed or else he would drag her down to hell.
She didn’t do it. She wasn’t superstitious, so she left it in a drawer and later threw it out.
A while later we were dating, and her brother-in-law came over. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since her husband died. He made her come down and formally invite him in, because he thought he would be cursed if he entered his dead brother’s home uninvited.
As the hours went by, he got drunker, and soon started pointing in the corner and saying, “He’s there. My brother is standing right there watching us.” He would look like he was listening to someone, then say things like, “He says he misses his son.”
By nighttime, he became convinced he was possessed by his dead brother’s ghost. He said, “I’m back, my wife!” and told her they needed to go to the bedroom to celebrate. He also tried to take a swing at me before we escorted him out and got him a cab.
About six months later, we had moved to another town. My wife’s son had a fever, and he kept waking up crying and yelling, “Too scary! Too scary!” We let him sleep in our bed, and he would wake up, pointing to the side of the bed by where my wife slept and say, “Scary man! Scary man!”
Finally he recovered, and his fits died down. Until one day, my wife showed him a picture of his biological father.
He started crying. He pointed at it and said, “Scary man!”
When my niece was 3, she covered up my head with a blanket and held it down. I moved my head out where I could see her. She said, “You can’t come out” and smothered me again. I laughed and said, “Why?” She gritted her teeth and angrily said, “Because I don’t want you to.”
When my niece was around three or four years old, she told me she used to have a baby but it drowned. The baby was called Peanut Butter, but still.
When our dog died, without us yet having properly attempted to explain death, our then two year old said, “All her thoughts left her body.”
My mom died when I was 19. When I’m having a bad day, I often find myself wishing I had my mom to talk to. I was having one of said days when I was putting the girls I babysit to sleep. Before I left the room, the 4-year-old sits up and says, “[My name], there’s a face behind your face.”
I asked her for clarification. “What do you mean there’s a face behind my face?”
“There’s a lady standing behind you,” she said, “and her head is on your shoulder.”
“What does she look like?” I asked her. “She’s looks like you but a lot older,” she responded.
People had always told me how much I looked like my mom.
When I was little, my grandfather, whom I called Pop Pop, always promised to take me fishing. Things always came up, or I wasn’t in town to go with him when he went, etc. He died when I was 7 and I never had a chance to go fishing. I had never gone fishing, and have not since he died either.
Fast forward 20 years, my wife and I have a 3-year-old daughter. I’ve never spoken to her about my Pop Pop, and I’ve never talked about him in front of her. I haven’t brought him up to anyone since before my daughter was born. One day, I’m off work and at home with my daughter and she’s in her room. Suddenly, she comes running into the living room where I’m sitting, and says the following:
Her: Daddy, we have to go fishing! (We don’t live near a lake or anything so this was kinda weird for her to say in the first place)
Me: Why do we have to go fishing?
Her: Because Pop Pop says you have to take me!
Me: Wait, what? Who told you?
Her: Pop Pop says you need to take me to go fish.
I’m not really a believer in an afterlife or anything, but I damn sure took her fishing. She has not mentioned Pop Pop since then, and it’s been almost a year since that happened.
I’m not a parent, but as a young child (age 3-5), I would sleepwalk into my parents’ room and stand by their bed quietly. My dad would wake up, find me and try to put me back to bed. I would tell him I couldn’t go back to bed, because “the tall men are walking.” This stopped immediately after moving from that particular house (the tall men comments stopped, the sleepwalking continued and still happens).
Then, when I was around 15, we were at church one day and I overheard one of the younger kids ask his parents as they walked away, “Who are those men?”
“What men, honey?”
“The tall men with [my name].”
I didn’t sleep well for a couple of nights after that.
My child had woken up early so she was watching cartoons next to me in my bed while I tried to wake up.
I’d heard a funny sound downstairs earlier that I mentally blamed on the dogs.
Then kiddo leans over to me and remarks, “Oh, there’s a man in the house.”
AWAKE AWAKE AWAKE
Never found anything, never got any further details from her.
When my son was 3, he kept saying he had a baby sister with a pink bow, but she died. We never had a baby girl, however we did have a miscarriage just before that episode.
My dad is the owner and runs a Hostel in Buenos Aires. We have plenty of people from all over the world, but especially from South America. More often than not, there are no kids around, but every once in a while we receive families.
So, there’s this family in the Hostel. One little boy and his parents. The little boy is the only kid in the entire place. Chilly winter night, he appears in the common room asking who is the little girl with the yellow raincoat in the bathroom. Once again, HE’S the only underage in the entire place.
The spooky moment comes 6 months later. There’s no kid this time. A forty-something-year-old lady from Spain asks us, “Whose child is the little girl with the yellow raincoat in the bathroom?”
Oh, and by the way: the door for that bathroom constantly closes by itself (it must be the wind). Also, the building used to be a nursing home and a mental asylum before that.